Private Undertow

[Jael Amnen]

The shore was quiet after the banquet's clamour, the hush of waves striking softer than the voices that had filled her ears only hours ago. Jael walked where moonlight struck the water, her ornate shoes dangling from one hand, forgotten ornaments against the salt-brushed night. Sand clung to her feet, cool and damp, while the hem of her gown dragged freely across the shoreline, gathering the sea's kiss without care for its ruin.

The conversation lingered still, Cassian Abrantes' words, surprisingly polished, replayed like mantra in her mind. How curious, that one so armoured in silence carried such unexpected poetry within. She had laughed then, softly, a priestess bemused and perhaps a little captivated.

Now the tide whispered as if to remind her: such moments were fleeting. Still, she savoured the memory, silver eyes lifted to the stars as if they might etch it more deeply into the firmament.

Her breath caught. Ahead, something darker broke the gleam of the waves, a shape half-claimed by the sea.

The shoes slipped from her hand.

She was running before thought reached her lips, gown tangling around her legs, heart slamming against her ribs as the tide surged. The water parted around her knees, cold and pulling. She fell to them, hands seizing the sodden form, turning it toward the pale glow of the moon.

"Cassian."

Cassian Abrantes​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

At first there was only the sea.

A weightless dark, the endless press and pull of waves. Cold fingers reaching, dragging him deeper, whispering for him to surrender. He was so tired, too tired to resist. Perhaps it was easier this way, to let the tide finish what steel and poison words had begun.

Then warmth.

A hand against his cheek, firm and trembling. A voice breaking through the surf. His name.

Cassian stirred, a ragged cough tearing his chest as water burned his lungs. The world flickered, stars above, silver eyes bending close, the taste of salt and blood thick in his mouth. He tried to speak, but the sound cracked and vanished, swallowed by the surf.

The sea fought to keep him, waves lapping higher, pulling at his limbs. But she pulled harder. He felt himself dragged from the sea his body heavy and uncooperative, pain flaring bright with each movement. Somewhere inside the fog of exhaustion, shame stirred, that she, a priestess, luminous and poised, should bear the weight of him like some wounded soldier hauled from a battlefield. He wasn't worth, he wasn't worth of a lot of things.....

Her voice cut through again, urgent and commanding....

"Cassian."

He wanted to obey, though every part of him cried for rest. His eyes fluttered open, just enough to see her braids plastered to her skin, beads scattering like stars in the tide. She was bent over him, fierce and desperate, a figure half-divine in the moonlight.

His lips moved, the words broken, almost inaudible. "…not…yet....I'm not ready"

It was as if hearing his name breathed life into him again. What he was, all that he was. All that he could be, his heart pulsed feeling the beating ever so vibrant now. He trembled lightly as he wrapped his arms around Jael, using her as best as he could to rise to his knees.

He looked up to her. "Thanks, thank you for answering my prayers, milady." He looked towards the shore, before looking back to her. "I need your help, just a little bit longer...."

Jael Amnen

 

[Jael Amnen]

The sea clung to him, unwilling to let go. Jael’s hands pressed harder against his chest, one firm, the other trembling as if her own pulse fought to keep his alive. Salt stung her lips as she bent close, silver braids plastered to her skin, her breath breaking into frantic whispers.

“Stay with me…Cassian, do not yield.”

She closed her eyes, calling on what little grace she carried, the thin silver thread of power that the Mother wove through her. Warmth gathered beneath her palms, spilling into his battered form. A faint glow pulsed between them, enough to ease the ragged edge of his breathing, enough to soothe, but not entirely mend.

The wound ran deeper than her reach. She felt the truth of it, the resistance, and with it a sharp pang of frustration. Still, she refused to release him.

“The Mother tends even broken threads into the weave,” she murmured against his ear, voice raw but resolute, “and you are not yet undone.”

Her cheek brushed his, a fleeting touch, more human than divine. She clung to him as much as he to her, drawing his arm across her shoulders, bracing them both against the tide. Each step toward the shore would be a battle, her gown sodden, her strength faltering.

"Cassian...please...try to stand. I will do what I can to support you."

Cassian Abrantes​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

The world swayed, blurred, sea and sky folding into one endless weight pressing him down. Every breath scraped, shallow and sharp, his chest burning as though he'd swallowed fire and salt together. Then warmth. Not the sea's cold clutch, but something softer, steadier, pressing through the numbness. Jael's voice wove into it, silver-threaded words that seemed to catch in the broken edges of his mind.

Stay with me… do not yield.

The words tethered him. He tried to move, to answer, but his tongue was thick with brine. His body resisted, heavy as stone, but her presence pressed against him with stubborn insistence. He felt it then, the strange warmth spreading beneath her palms, not fire, but a quiet light threading through the pain, dulling the edge of his wounds, softening the grip of the sea.

The glow seeped into him, and though the worst of the agony still clawed at his thigh and arm, the raw edges of despair dulled. Where that glow moved across his body lashing into him. Willing him to stay awake and alive. The feeling of her cheek against his was the second commandment to him. She was fighting for him, against the tide, against his own faltering will. Genuine, warmth and touch.

"Cassian...please...try to stand. I will do what I can to support you."

"I know you to be good, strong and true. I can trust no one else with this task, do you understand." "When will you stop pretending you're protecting Naboo, and start protecting your own family?" "How do you know when to act, and when to wait? When is it right to defy, and when is it merely selfishness dressed in principle?""You'll spend your life carrying other men's wars, and never notice when your own has begun.""Would you have let him die? Would you not have tried to save him? Do not tell me that you would have let him be put down no better than a hunting Kathhound as if it had no more use!""If anyone's the best in the galaxy, it's me!""I can take you away from here. At least for the night. If you wish, it isn't a year like you want to explore, but for a few hours, you can be whatever you want to be."

"They can try too, but they wont."

Something stirred inside him. Shame for the briefest that she should suffer for him, that he should drag her down into blood and salt. But shame shifted into defiance, and defiance into a spark he knew too well: the soldier's will, the refusal to let another carry his burden alone. He drew a deeper breath, the first that felt like his own since the sea had claimed him. His legs found purchase against the sucking sand, and with a growl low in his throat, he pushed himself upright. Pain flared white-hot, he resisted it, steadying them both.

The shoreline crept closer, the roar of the sea dulling as the sand rose beneath them. Cassian felt the strength return not in a rush, but in fragments: the steadiness of his stance, the tightening of his grip on her shoulder, the way his spine straightened against the weight of exhaustion. He was still battered, bloodied, half-broken, but he was no longer lost to the sea.

He stood upright, arm still around her as they left the waves behind. He stared upwards into the sky, taking deep steady breaths. He glanced down to Jael, once more his prayers were answered.

"Thank you, milady Jael." He was nothing to her, and she helped him all the same. That need to help others, that basic instinct, the basic human nature for support.

"If I may ask, for your assistance once more milady-" He glanced down as he realized he no longer had had the device on him. "I need you to contact Abrantes Manor, request to speak to Master Caleb Irons, tell him-tell him..." Cassian forced the smallest of smiles. "He will know what to do."

Jael Amnen

 

[Jael Amnen]

Her strength bled out with every step, each thread of warmth she had drawn upon unraveling into him instead of her. What she had given was more than she should, more than her body could easily bear, but Jael did not loosen her hold.

“I will,” she whispered hoarsely in answer to his plea, “I will tell him. You have my word.”

The shoreline rose before them, their bodies dragging free of the tide at last. Sand clung heavy to her gown, braids sodden against her back, each breath shallow and ragged. Still she braced herself against his weight, guiding him up the incline, toward the faint crest of the hill where the lights of Naboo flickered in the distance.

Her vision blurred at the edges, silver glow fading from her fingertips. But she held fast. Step after step, refusing to falter until they reached the rise. There she loosed one hand, lifting it toward the night sky. A flare of light kindled at her palm, weak, wavering, but enough to pierce the dark as a signal.

Only then did she let him sink gently to the ground. Her hands lingered against his chest, unwilling to withdraw entirely, even as her body gave way. She folded beside him, the damp earth cool against her cheek.

“You are safe now,” she breathed, the words no stronger than a sigh, “the Mother…will not forsake you.”

And with that vow still on her lips, Jael’s eyes fluttered closed, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion at his side.

Cassian Abrantes​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Cassian lay on his back, the stars wheeling faintly above him, his chest still heaving as though each breath fought against the weight of the tide. The ground was solid beneath him at last, no longer shifting, no longer threatening to pull him under. The sand clung to his wounds, to the torn edges of his tunic, but he hardly noticed. All he felt was the sudden absence of Jael's strength.

He turned his head with effort, the motion dragging pain up his neck, and saw her collapsed beside him. Her cheek pressed to the earth, her braids dark with seawater, her lips parted around the last vow she had given. The faint shimmer of light still clung to her fingertips, guttering out like the final glow of an ember.

"Jael…" His voice cracked, raw as gravel. He shifted, forcing his arm to reach for her. His fingers brushed against hers, chilled and trembling, and he willed what strength he had left into that touch.

He drew in another breath, steadier this time. The pain remained, sharp and gnawing, but beneath it something had returned, will, the soldier's stubborn fire. He squeezed her hand faintly, his own bloodied knuckles rough against her skin. The world blurred at the edges, exhaustion threatening to drag him under again, but he forced his eyes to stay on her. The moon painted her face in silver, soft and unguarded, and for the first time since the banquet, he let himself feel the truth of it: she had seen him, saved him, held him when he had nothing left. Cassian pulled himself to a sitting position, pulling her into his arm. Holding her as gently, and yet tightly as if he were to let her go they would both fade from this world.

And so he held her, blood and sea salt still heavy in his mouth, waiting for the lights on the horizon to draw nearer.

It was Caleb, and House Abrantes guard via vessel from the sea. They had come. "Cassian!" Caleb neared them, taking a quick glance at the chaos around. "Shiraya......Let's get them on board, back to the estate, quick."

"Cassian, what happened?"

"I-I don't know. They, came from the-. They were well trained....."


Abrantes Manor

Who is she? I don't know? He was hurt bad? Will he be okay? Does Alistair and Callista know? What about Sibylla? Cassian wants this quiet for now? Why? This is absurd? Cassian nearly killed, we should be out there hunting for these vermin! Stop! We don't know enough yet. Stay calm.

The manor's walls had never felt so heavy. Stone and carved wood, tapestries meant to speak of dignity and lineage, all of it pressed around him as though trying to smother the memory of the tide. The firelight danced across them, the manor's silence thick, as though the house itself listened. Cassian's gaze still fixed on her, unwilling to look away until he saw her draw a steadier breath. She would be tended to with great care, he owed her a great deal.

Someone had sent them, and someone had expected him to die on that beach. His jaw tightened as the thought dug deep. It wasn't chance. It wasn't misfortune. It was deliberate. Cassian sat on the table, as the medics did their work, mumbling to themselves as the went about, but he hardly heard. His eyes were steady, fixed not on the fire, but on the dark corners of the chamber itself. As if the shadows might yield the answers he sought.

He would not rest. Not truly. Not until he had pulled back every veil, traced every coin, every whisper that had led assassins to his doorstep. The bandages were tied off at last, white against the bruised flesh, but Cassian's expression did not ease. His body was mending, yes, but the steel in his gaze was sharper than any dagger the killers had carried.

They thought me weak, drunk, easy prey, he told himself, each word like an oath hammered onto his soul. They will learn otherwise.

Cassian shifted against the table, the movement slow, deliberate, and lifted his chin toward the door. To any who entered, the look in his eyes was unmistakable, vigilant, unyielding, the promise of a man who would hunt this injustice to its end. He would not be undone by whispers in the dark. He would bring the shadows into the light, and when he did, there would be no mercy.

Jael Amnen

 

[Jael Amnen]

Darkness folded around her, but it was not the sea. It was weightless, humming with a presence that was older than the stars. Jael stood barefoot on a mirrored plain of water that did not ripple, the sky above heavy with silver constellations that had no names.

From that stillness a voice stirred. Its hum low and resonant, as though the tide itself spoke in a mother’s tongue. “Child of Amnen.”

Her breath caught. She bowed her head, the onyx beads in her braids whispering together. “Mother…forgive me. I gave too much.”

The water glowed faintly at her feet, each word sending ripples of light across the endless horizon. “You gave what was required. Not for his sake alone, but for the weaving of all things. Threads touch threads....yours, his...the unseen.”

Jael’s throat tightened. “Then tell me...was it my hand, or Yours, that saved him?”

The starlight shimmered, and she felt the warmth of unseen fingers trace her cheek. “Both. I move through those who will not close their hands. You opened yours, and so you carried him from the sea.”

Tears welled, unbidden. “But my strength wanes. How am I to walk the path you lay before me?”

A silence fell. The moment felt vast and tender, before the answer came. “Even the strongest tide recedes, child. You are not forsaken.”

The light began to dim, the stars bending downward, folding her into their embrace.

---

Jael’s eyes fluttered open to struggle against firelight, the scent of salt still clinging to her lips. Her body was weak, her limbs heavy, but the first thought that rose clear and unshaken was not of herself.

"Cassian." He must be well.

Cassian Abrantes​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Cassian moved before thought could even take form. The sound of her voice or rather, the fragile thread of his name torn from her lips, was enough to draw him across the firelight in a breath.

He leaned against the small makeshift bed, his hand found hers,, grounding her as though to anchor her to this world and not the storm that had nearly taken her.

"Jael," he murmured, the relief breaking into his voice even as he tried to steady it. Her eyes, still dazed, caught his, and he felt something in his chest ease for the first time since the sea had swallowed them both.

"You're safe. I've got you." he said, softer now, leaning close enough that his words would not be lost to the crackle of flames. His thumb brushed against her palm, as though reassuring himself she was truly there.

For a long moment, he simply held her gaze. She was pale, weak, but alive, and that was more than he had dared to hope when he'd dragged her from the salt and fire. The scent of the sea still clung to them both, but here, beside the hearth. The smallest of smiles formed on his face.

"You saved me...thank you." His words containing much sincerity and genuine heartfelt thanks

Jael Amnen

 

[Jael Amnen]

His voice drew her back from the haze. Jael’s lashes fluttered, her eyes finding his through the blur, and for a moment she could only breathe, uneven, but alive.

Her fingers twitched faintly within his, seeking the warmth of his touch as if it alone tethered her. Her body was still heavy with weakness, the pulse of her strength spent in the waves. Yet when his thumb brushed her palm, she turned her hand enough to curl against him, a fragile grip but deliberate, refusing to let go.

“You…are here,” she whispered, her voice frayed but carrying relief that steadied even her. Her head tilted weakly toward him, braids damp against her cheek, and for a heartbeat her forehead touched the back of his hand. It was not the gesture of a priestess, but raw instinct. She was compelled by needing to feel his presence, to be certain he was truly before her.

When he thanked her, her lips parted in the faintest of smiles, worn but sincere. “Do not thank me…Cassian. It was not strength. Only…what was right to do.” The words caught in her throat, her breath trembling against his skin.

Her eyes lingered on his face, pale though she was, the faint shimmer of firelight caught in her silver gaze. Slowly, weakly, she squeezed his hand again, the effort costing her but meant to reassure him in turn.

“I am safe,” she murmured, and the words were meant as much for him as for herself. “Because you are.”

Cassian Abrantes​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Jael Amnen​

Cassian bent just a bit closer, her fragile whisper carrying more weight than the roar of waves had hours ago. He held her hand firmly now, not crushing, but steady, grounding her where her strength faltered. The faint pressure of her fingers curling against his stirred something he kept buried, fear, sharp and raw, now tempered only by relief.

“I am here,” he answered quietly, his voice low and certain, as though saying it aloud might keep her tethered. “And I will not leave you.”

Her forehead rested against his hand, damp braids brushing his skin, and he stilled entirely, reverent in the simplicity of the gesture. Not priestess and Noble, just two souls who had stared into the same storm and endured.

When she tried to smile, when she told him it was not strength but duty, his jaw tightened, the faintest flicker of emotion breaking through his otherwise composed expression. “What you did was more than duty, Jael. It was courage.” He tilted his head, his dark eyes catching the firelight as he searched her pale face. “And it nearly cost you everything. For me.”

He let silence linger then, broken only by the crackle of flame. Slowly, deliberately, he shifted his hand so her weak grip could settle more comfortably within his. The warmth of her palm, faint though it was, eased something tight in his chest.

“You are safe,” he echoed, but his voice carried the weight of a vow. His thumb traced lightly along her knuckles, an unspoken promise pressed into each pass. “Thank you.” He couldn’t have told her enough.